


Monsters

by montandom



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Car Accidents, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montandom/pseuds/montandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The College No Supernatural AU that you didn't ask for, but are getting it anyway.</p>
<p>Broody gay Carmilla Karnstein is dealing with traumatic events from her past as best as she can (which is poorly, by the way), until tiny gay ball of sunshine Laura Hollis comes wrecking into her pacific existence and hidden wounded heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt to write a multi-chapter fic, so... Be gentle? Please?  
> For this chapter I would suggest: To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra :)

**_“You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after.”_ **

_______________________________________________________________

You don't sleep.

Even with your body beyond the point of exhaustion, you've stayed awake the whole time.

The crash, the claustrophobic feeling of being trap inside a wrecked car, the ultimate rescue, the life leaving her eyes forever... If her last words couldn't put you under ( _good Lord, have mercy on me_ ), medication most definitely wouldn't do the trick now.

_Try to rest_ , the doctors say, pumping painkillers and sleeping pills through you, making your multiple fractures go numb, but never your mind. 

You just stare at the blank wall with dead eyes.

You don’t sleep

Because sleeping means resting, and resting means you accepted your fate. Your survival. Her departure. Your loss. Her nonexistence.

And you don't. You won't. You'll never.

_Good Lord, have mercy on me..._

When you finally fall asleep, your mind is as blank as the wall.

_______________________________________________________________

 

It take you a while to realize you're awake.

Your position is still the same, and your eyes are vaguely registering the blank wall again. 

You have no idea how long you've been like that.

_"Time isn't real, Mircalla..."_  Ell says, with a playfully smile, tugging your hand in this sunny memory and then " _Good Lord, have mercy on me..._ " She sighs for the last time, and the memory isn't sunny anymore. It's bloody and cold.

It's the end.

Your eyes hurt from all the staring.

_______________________________________________________________

 

"SHE'S MY DAUGHTER!" You can hear his screams in the hallway and for the first time in your whole life, they don't make you flinch.

By now, you consider that blank wall a friend. 

Sometimes she shows memories of a better time, and sometimes she shows the exactly same nothing you feel it in your bones. Either way, you don't take your eyes of her, and she helps you get through the artificial numbness of the medicines.

Your father burst into the room, raven messy hair like yours, and you blink painfully as you turn your look to him, gazing as if he is some kind of stranger entity, trespassing the silent sanctuary you created with your blank wall.  

"Carmilla..." He says weakly. His characteristic look of firm resolution fades as he take in your appearance. 

His broken daughter, you think to yourself. You can tell that the cuts and bruises does not pain him as much as your dead eyes. He is immobile in place as the door closes naturally, and the sight of your dad, your always talkative and charming dad, completely speechless, makes a wave of frantic emotion hit you with full force for the first time since the accident. 

Tears leave your brown eyes freely now.

"Dad..." You beg, with a husky sad voice, your lips trembling as you start to sob violently. 

He walks quickly towards you, sitting in your bed and wrapping his arms around you without any hesitation. You circle his middle with your arms and hide your face in his chest, crying, as you never did before, feeling the pain, both physical and emotional, reanimating all the places that were numb just a minute ago. Your father smooth your hair with one hand, and your back with other, carefully, not to cause you any extra pain, while he whispers comfort words in the dark hospital room.

"My baby girl… My dearest baby girl... I am here now... Daddy's here now... You gonna be ok."

You feel an urge to tell him that she's dead, that you're hurt, that nothing ever is going to be ok, and it's your fault. Your entire fault. Only your fault. But you have no strength, so you let him cherish you, just like he used to do when you were a child waking up from one of your night terrors.

And when you have no more water in your body to express the pain in your heart, you fall asleep. This time calmer, not by accident, not induced, but because you have to. She’s gone. She’s dead. You have to accept. You have to acknowledge.

That’s the cruelest part of it all.

_______________________________________________________________

 

The day they put her under the ground is grey and cold.

You can’t help but to think it is strangely appropriate.

This is, after all, how your life is going to be without Ell. Without her laugh and her tricky smile. Without her soft touch on your skin. Without her warm body pressed against yours. Without her tumb stroking your hand as you hold hers. Never again feeling her kissing the tip of your nose and calling you “stubborn Arcillma”. No more silly anagrams with your old-fashioned name.

Grey, cold and lethargic.

It makes you want to laugh and cry, run forever or never get up again, punch everything in your way or curl up in a ball of tears and despair, kill someone and die, all at once.

Instead, you stand upon her grave, dressed all in black, long after everyone else is gone. The gelid wind plays with your hair and makes your left shoulder – the one where the glass was stuck deep in the flesh after the car crash – stings in agony.

Your face remains expressionless, as it did during the funeral. The only time you softens were when her mother came to hug you. She asked you how was your shoulder, and then, wiping away her constant tears, she asked you to come by their house and pick up some of Ell’s things.

“I-… I know how much she means-… Meant to you, Carmilla...” Her voice is small, weak and insecure “I want you to have some of her things. I think-… I think she would like that…”

You promise you’ll come by, and you mean it. You want anything of Ell she can give you. She leaves, as do the rest of the people, but you stay, mostly because you have no clue what to do next.

You think about her last words.

“Good Lord, have mercy on me…” She said, sighing with relief while closing her dark blue eyes forever.

She had never been religious, so you can only imagine the amount of pain that made her say that.

You didn’t tell to the doctors though, neither to her family. Instead, you told them Ell was peaceful as she left this world. They seem content with it, and you knew you made the right call. Their grief didn’t need to be intensified by the thought of her precious daughter agonizing in pain in her last minutes.

You are so deep in this thoughts that you don’t hear your mother approaching until she’s right by your side. Her slim figure, elegant, all in black, with big sunglasses covering her eyes. You don’t turn to look at her. You saw her eyes swollen of crying every time you crossed paths with her, but she didn’t said a word to you since the accident. Not in the hospital, not in home, not anywhere. You know she loved Ell as a daughter, probably more, as she never loved you like that anyway, and you also know that any word that comes from her right now will not be good.

You sigh, a big, tired sigh, waiting for her to spit it out, whatever she’s holding back.

“You’re just like your father…” She says, staring at the grave stone implacably, her voice cold as the wind that blows on your face. “He too can’t stand the sight of beauty without feeling a strong urge to destroy it.”

You brain takes an excessive time to register and process her words, but when it does, you feel nothing but a shocking mortification. You open your mouth to answer her, but no sound comes out of you. You just stare at her, and after a while, she turns to look at you. Jawline clenched and a relentless expression.

“You’re a shitty mother…” You finally manage to say. “And a shitty person, in general.”

She seems amused now.

“Oh darling, didn’t you realized by now?” She smiles with no trace of humor. “We are all like that. Our family… Terrible people.” She turns her back at Ell’s grave, getting ready to leave. “You should be glad you killed her before you had the time to shatter her heart… Because that’s who we are, my glittering girl… Us, the Karnsteins, we swallow their lights with our darkness.” She walks away as silent as she came and you’re left alone there once more.

Your hands are shaking and you hate her.

_You hate her, because she is right._


	2. First Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our favorite gays meet :)

**_“If it was sad, the tone of mind which this induced was also sweet. Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it.”_ **

_______________________________________________________________

_2 years later_

If you're being completely honest, you fucking hate the sun.

The big yellow bastard makes everything sticky with sweat and everyone ludicrously smiling. And if you're being completely honest again, you hate ludicrously smiling people as well.

The object of your silent hatred is wide and bright on the sky while you walk to class that morning, which makes you especially grumpy behind your old pair of sunglasses.   

All you want is to drink your bitter coffee and calmly survive your first day back into your third year philosophy major, preferably without having to communicate with another human being, but of course,  _of course_ , life is a fuckboy to you and have other plans.

As if being awake before noon to watch an excruciating boring lecture about Goethe wasn't enough, of course that just when you are close to the Robespierre building some bloody reckless cyclist has to bump on you, spilling your precious coffee everywhere and making you drop all of your books.

"What the hell is wrong with you, you blind dimwit?!" You snaps angrily, shaking your biker boots to get rid of the bowling liquid.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" The cyclist says, rambling faster than you ever thought it was possible, and dropping their bike in the ground with a loud tud. "Are you hurt? Did I hurt you? Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I just looked to my tire for a second and then you were right in front of me and I couldn't take a turn and I didn't reach the break in time, I'm so sorry! Are your arm hurt? Did I hit your arm? Should we get you to the hospital? Oh my-..."

"Stop calling your god like that, for fucks sake!" You interrupt their annoying rant, feeling the start of a nasty headache poking your forehead. "I'm sure he has more important things to do than..." You lift your head to look at the owner of the annoyingly sweet voice and  _uow_ , it's a she. And she's short. (And very cute, but that's not the point at all.) "... Listening to his tiny creations vigorous apologies. Did you get lost on your way to high school, princess?" Your say with a very caustic tone, in order to compensate the weird break in the middle of the sentence.

Crazy cyclist is cute all right - with golden locks and hazel brown eyes - but not cute enough to make you drop the attitude.

She blinks confused at your words, her hands in the middle of another vague "I'm so sorry" gesture, and when her precious brain finally get it together, she frowns, the look of concern being replaced by one of mild irritation.

"Uow, you're rude..." She says between tight lips. 

"My mind, your deduction skills seems as good as your driving ability..." You reply ironically, gathering your books from the ground.

"Are you seriously playing the broody sarcastic brunette act on me?" She scoffs, her irritation no longer mild, but now on full force. You can tell she's fighting the urge to place her hands on her hips like the tiny ball of rage she really is. 

_"She's a funny thing to watch"_  is the thought that crosses your mind and soften your mood a little bit.

"I wasn't aware it was an act, let alone being brunette was a prerequisite to it." You smirk at her. "Cupcake, this is a college campus, you should get your tricycle and be gone, before the big bad adults call your... Parental figures."

"Ok, first of all, did you swallowed one of the Bronte sister's novels on your breakfast?" Her petit frame is shaking a little bit and she's pouting adorably.

_Wait, adorably?_ You meant hilariously.

You open your mouth to answer, but she shakes her head, interrupting you.

"You know what? Never mind." She adjusts the strap of her grey backpack and lift her bike. "Please accept my humble apologies regarding the clumsy and unintentional accident that I've caused..." Her tone is excessively pompous and ironic and does not fit her at all, but it's probably her best impression of you. "I hope your arm is still functional, and that you have a very shitty day!" She shoots a faux pleased smile at you and walk away caring her bike along. 

It took you approximately two minutes to make the smiley bright little cupcake crazy.  _That has to be a record of some kind_ , you think to yourself watching her go. 

Your left shoulder is starting to hurt now.

"Don't mind if I do, cupcake..." You sigh to yourself. 

Every day is a shitty day from where you're standing. 

_______________________________________________________________

After a thoughtful retrospect, you weren't really surprise that Joe was the one who put the two of you together.

The Oracle was kind of like your only home since you've discovered by chance in 7th grade, and Joe was your only friend. He probably knew you better than anyone and he also probably had it planned that first encounter all along. 

You would never guess that this old, dark and almost totally forgotten bookstore would be you safe place, but there you were, spending almost all of your free time between classics books and also books no one ever heard of.

For you, the place was magical, with its enormous wooden carved shelves and the everlasting smell of fresh coffee. Most of all, you liked the silence. You could never get enough of it at home.

Joe, the owner, was a quiet type, such as yourself. He never frowned, not even once, at the sight of you - short raven haired girl with way too much fire in her eyes - entering his store and spending long afternoons hidden there, leaving without a word at twilight time and never buying anything. 

One day, in the middle of the winter, he came to find you in one of your reading spots and gave you a mug of warm coffee. That was the day he started growing on you. 

You guys never talked much, never asked each other about favorite colors or inspiring books... Never exchange any personal details about the life you led outside The Oracle or how was things at home. But he always seem to know, when you were sad or particularly angry. He always bought you coffee, on the same mug from the first time and you were always silently grateful for the lack of difficult questions.

It was in the summer of you freshman's year that he probably decided you needed a friend.

Turns out that you weren't the only one who spent the afternoons reading between dusty shelves for the last 3 years or so. Turns out that there was someone else there too and you've managed to avoid them until Joe decided it was time for you both to meet. Turns out... Well, turns out that was how you met Ell.

It has been an especially bad morning at home and you were on your favorite reading spot - in a dark corner of the witchcraft session - with eyes closed and shaking hands when you smelled coffee. You opened your eyes and pulled yourself together quickly while he approached you with your mug.

“I want you to meet someone…” He said, his always-calm voice, handing you the coffee. 

He had the shadow of a two days beard and his, probably, favorite flannel shirt on. A total sweet lumberjack.

“Joe, today is not a very good-…” The words died in your throat as you saw the girl peeking behind him.

She was… Uow.

“Carmilla, this is Ell… Ell, this is Carmilla.”

Ell’s night sky blue eyes sparkled at you and you felt a little dizzy while she tuck a strand of her long and flat blonde hair behind her ear. Was she even real?

“Hi there, Marcilla.” She greeted you, with a mischievous smile.

“Hi…” You replied, a foolish grin spreading on your features.

And right then, right there, you knew you were screwed.

You just didn’t know how much yet.

_______________________________________________________________

Bottom line, the Goethe lecture was more insufferable than you originally predict. You couldn't bear, so you graciously showed yourself out in the middle of it, like you do whenever you're stuck in some exceptionally boring academic activity.

In your first year on Silas University, you made sure you found unused spots where you could hide from tedious classes without being disturbed by some unwary lackwit. By now you likely know the university grounds better than anyone. Turns out SilasU has many hidden spots and fortunately, you ended up with several options.

In that obnoxious sunny day, you’ve chosen the winter garden, close to the biology department, since everyone thinks there’s some kind of poisonous plant there – rumor courtesy of the alchemy club, you think – and no one ever comes near.

You’re laying down on the wood bench, holding a worn copy of Wuthering Heights just above your head while you read it for the hundredth time, when a familiar sweet voice interrupts you.

“You’re skipping class…” Tiny cupcake states from where she’s standing shyly and insecure, in the entrance of the garden.

You’re not as surprise with her presence as you’re with the fact the she was actual able to find you there.

_Maybe it’s time to find some better hiding spots_ , you think to yourself while adamantly refusing to show any kind of emotion to her.

“So are you, it seems.” You reply, nonchalant.

You can see her biting her lips nervously on your peripheral view, nothing like the rambling furious shorty from earlier, and even though part of you is curious about why she engaged in the task of finding you after such vehement outburst of irritation that morning, you didn’t take your eyes off your book. Or move at anyway, for that matter.

“I came to apologize…” She says with a tiny little voice that fits her height perfectly. “For this morning? I don’t know what got into me, I snapped at you and I kept thinking about it on class and now I feel really bad and-…”

“That’s really not necessary.” You say dryly. “You can go now.”

She stops talking but does not move to leave. You, for your turn, pretend she’s not there at all – something you’re really good at it, by the way – when the true is you want to laugh of the way she keeps biting her lips and holds her cup of coffee like is the only thing stopping her from running to the hills.

Minutes pass and you sigh profoundly as she keeps staring at you in silence.

“So… Are these leather pants of yours hard to put it on as they look?” She says, finally.

You snap your book shut and roll your eyes so hard that it’s almost painful.

“Cupcake, please don’t hurt yourself like that…” You say in a “I take pity on you” kind of way, sitting straight on the bench and taking off your sunglasses for the first time in that day.

The corners of her mouth lift slightly, and holding back a smile she takes a few steps closes to you, seeing your softer tone as an encouragement.

Which it was not, actually. Purely accidental.

_What the fuck are you doing, Karnstein?_

“I got this for you.” She shrugs, handing you the cup of coffee carefully. “Replacement for the wasted one this morning.”

You recognize the little zombie logo from your favorite coffee shop close to campus.

“’Broody brunette’, huh?” You ask, taking it and reading the messy handwriting on the cup with an ironic smile.

“Oh… Yes.” She says, sitting in the opposite edge of the bench slowly and unsure. “The barista told me it was a shitty pick up line, by the way. But I don’t know you name, so…” She trails off, her hazel eyes never leaving your face.

You take a sip of the coffee, humming appreciatively. Oh yeah, warm and delicious coffee… Maybe the cupcake is not so bad after all.

“It’s Carmilla.” You say, turning to look at her for the first time. “In case you’re planning on bringing me more coffee.”

“Carmilla…” She repeats, allowing herself a wide bright smile.      

“Yes…” You blink. _What the actual fuck is this smile now?_

“I’m Laura.” She says, holding out her hand for you in a old fashioned greeting.

You chuckle, _but very, very slightly,_ while you squeeze her hand.

“Hi there, Laura.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I go on or nah?  
> Let me know what you think: l-elephant-blanc.tumblr.com


	3. Shattered Porcelain & Cupcake Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which are favorite gays do nothing special besides being our favorite gays, and we learn a little bit about Carmilla broody facade.
> 
> TW: mentions of violence, emotional abuse and abandonment

**_“Girl are caterpillars when they live in the world, to be finally butterflies when the summer comes; [...] don’t you see – each with their peculiar propensities, necessities and structures.”_ **

_______________________________________________________________ 

The golden lock toddler seemed to grow found of you after you were no longer so acid and the ginger bio major seems to find this fact hilarious.

"Well, who would guess that Carmilla Karnstein, sassy extraordinaire, had a soft spot for cute shorty girls?" They said in that morning, right after Laura waved at you excitedly from where she was hooking her bike and you, discretely, waved back. 

“She's bearable." You answer in a dreary tone, shrugging to the cheeky grin plastered on LaFontaine's face. "And she gave me coffee."

"Oh, yeah?" They scoff, looking annoyingly unconvinced. "And here I was thinking that I would be your one and only friend until we graduate..."

"You're not my friend." You reply, more out of habit than anything else. 

You both now is a blatant lie. LaF is your only friend, besides Joe and now, possibly, Laura.

Truth be told you have no idea why she bother to be around you.

Since that little accident with her bike and then the subsequent awkward introduction, her presence was almost a constant factor in your free time on the university. Cupcake seems to have a weird talent to find you wherever you were and after two weeks of having her popping up with cookies and coffee on your hiding spots, you are not surprise to see her hazel (and very pretty) eyes greeting you excitedly.

It was almost... Endearing. Almost.

You're not used to sweet gestures and soft touches like hers, but you're definitely not about to complain about free food. And if she happens to bump on your arm while you walk or sit too close to you on the benches, well... Toddlers are affectionate, right? And have zero coordination. 

You'll never admit, but it's doesn't annoy as much as it would if it was anyone else, but little cupcake.

Of course, LaF could never know that or you would be dead. 

"So... Do you like her?" They ask while you both watch Laura walk away to her class in the English department.

"Your obsession with hypothetical romantic relationships that most likely will never happen is annoying, not to mention invasive." You reply, yawning.

LaF is about to come with some witty response when Perry appears behind they, interrupting.

"Carmilla is right, sweetie." The ginger floor don says, putting her hand in LaF's shoulder in a patronizing way. "Let her be. Laura is a curious freshman, and she is making quick friends, that's all."

"Oh, she's making friends, all right..." LaF say, looking, yet again, unconvinced. "With broody smoking-hot-entirely-made-of-leather brunettes..."

"I always knew you had a crush on me, bio major..." You smirk playfully at them. "I quite like you, just not in that way."

LaF chuckles, but Perry seems profoundly disconcerted with the implications of your last statement.

"Seriously though..." LaFontaine stops giggling. "I'm happy you are letting someone get close to you... The gods know that your interactions alternate between being a asshole to me and one night stands with some of the Summer Society girls."

"For the last time..." You sigh. "It was just Elsie."

"That's not what the rumor says..." They nudge you with their elbow, smirking. 

"I did not sleep with Mel!" It's your response, stepping away from their reach. "She was drunk and thought my boobs were a comfortable place to land her dizzy head. I told her she wasn't my type and she snapped. Entirely NOT my fault..."

LaF just shrugs and give you an apologetic look. 

"Anyway, Laura is great..." They continue. "She's like this tiny ball of sunshine and you, for one, looks like you could use some sun... Do you know your unofficial nickname is Resident Vampire, right?"

"Whatever." You say, uninterested. 

Perry, on the other hands, looks like she's having an aneurysm. You're not sure if it's because of mentions of casual sex or supernatural beings, but it's entertaining enough to watch.

"There's no such things as vampires." She says, glaring at you with a nervous smile." And we are late to class..." She says, tugging LaF by the shirt with her. "Goodbye, Carmilla.”

“Yeah, goodbye, Carmilla…” LaF says with a wink and false flirtatious tone. 

You just roll your eyes. Goodbye, lowkey queer floor don, goodbye, mad scientist, you think while you stand there watching they get out of your sight. 

You feel almost contented while you walk to your class in that unusual gelid morning.

Maybe Laura will bring you cookies later.

Maybe today will not be so bad, for a change.

 _______________________________________________________________

A week after you met Ell, he leaves for good.

In that day, the sound of breaking glass resonate through you as a confirmation.

The feeling of impending doom that hung above your head for as long as you remember just couldn't be in vain. You should have known, of course, but instead you allowed yourself to a little hope… A childish believe that, no matter how bad the screams got, they would never cross that line. That “verbal to physical” line.

A terrible miscalculation on your part.

You walk down the stairs slowly. Partially because you’re a scared with the sounds and the screams, and partially because you’re not entirely sure you want an image of what’s causing that horrendous cacophony. You have to carefully divert from the pieces of broken dishes in the hallway, and when you finally manage to reach the kitchen entrance without mutilating your feet, the house is silent, and everything is a bigger mess than you initially thought.

Your dad is standing close to the back door, a tired expression, looking to the ceiling like it have the answers. Across the floor and the kitchen counter, all sorts of things are destroyed. Glasses of wine, cereal bowls, your grandma precious porcelain dishes... Everything shattered. Your mom is in the opposite side of the room, staring at your dad with defying look. 

You don't say a word, blinking slowly, taking it all in. After a while, your father notices your presence. He looks at you with the same tired look, not ashamed, not scared, not even conflicted... Just tired. 

"No one is hurt." He says, calmly, and despite your shock with the scene you cannot help but to think these words are a testimony of the hell you live in. 

Only in hell, you think, a father would say that to his scared daughter so naturally. 

"Oh, there she is!" Your mother laugh, her tone poisonous. "Our precious pupil...She looks so much like you, don't you think, darling?" She starts to move close to you, but stops as she sees you taking two steps back. She smile wide from the panic look on your face. "Sometimes I wonder what will be of you, my dearest. With me as your mother, and he as your father... What kind of monster will you be, Carmilla? How long until your reveal your true despicable nature?"

"We are monsters because of what we did to each other, Lilita..." Your dad leaves his post at the door, and sits on a stool, burying his face in his hands. "Living in the shadow of what we used to be... Our daughter... Our daughter have nothing to-..." He lift her head to look at you, exasperated, as if he finally realized that you were there. "Get out of here, Carmilla."

"Yes, get out of here, Carmilla..." Your mother mocks, smiling even wider, almost sadistic. "Daddy wants you out of his sight so he can pretend you're no longer his responsibility. Daddy will not protect you from this, because Daddy is leaving..."

"You're leaving?" You find your voice to ask him, swallowing hard as you fight the tears that poke the corner of your eyes.

He open his mouth to answer but no sound come out of it. 

"At least give your daughter the true, Victor." Your mom demands, no amusement in her voice this time.

He takes a deep breath, sustaining your painful look. You don't really believe in god, and maybe you already know the answer for months now, but, in that agonizing few seconds, you silently pray for him to say no, to say he will not leave you. Never. Because if he goes, then it will be just you and your mom. And your mom is going to crush you. 

"Yes." He blurts out, defeated, and you mother laughs.

You just nod speechless, as hot tears strain down your face. He's leaving you. He's giving up on you. He's no better than she is, you realize. Your father is darkness too... Warm and inviting darkness, gently disguised as a charming passivity, but darkness no less.

When you run away, no one objects.

_______________________________________________________________

Turns out that you weren't the only one feeling lazy that morning. 

Turns out your Philosophy of the Tyranny professor was a little under the weather, had absolutely no strength to teach a class, and decide to give you all a reading assignment and set you free for the rest of the day. 

Which, for you, can only mean one thing: naptime in the library secret couch. 

Why, on earth, Silas has a worn out couch hidden between obscure shelves that hosts equally obscure books, is beyond you, but it’s an effective hiding spot – and you get never have too many of those while avoiding any kind of social exchange. 

So there you are, boots discarded on the floor, lying flat on your stomach and almost pleasantly drifting to sleep, when, for the first time in the three years you have been hiding there, you hear light footsteps approaching. You don't move or even open your eyes. You try to tell yourself that is because you're rebellious, but the true is you already know who's coming, and is not some faculty member looking for kicking you out. 

"No place is safe from the inquisitive tiny journalist..." You sigh, when the footsteps stop and you feel a pair of eyes watching you. "I hope you're not making a habit out of skipping class."

"I'm not even that tiny!" Laura says, indignantly. "You are like an inch taller, at best..."

You open your eyes and rolls on your back to look at her, an amused smirk spreading on your face against your will. 

"I don't see my coffee in your pretty little hands today..." You say, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"I'm a college student with a limited budget..." She says, dropping her backpack next to your boots. "We will have to work on different ways for me to buy your friendship."

"Fair enough." You mutter, suppressing a bigger smile by looking to your nails with calculated boredom. 

You try,  _ ~~and fails miserably~~_ , to ignore the way she's biting her lips again. You already noticed that she does that a lot around you, mostly in the start of a conversation, when she's not quite sure what to say or even if she's welcome to talk at all. Personally, you like to let her struggle a little bit before soften the mood with some witty comment about her height or a pastry nickname. She looks  _ ~~adorably~~_  funny all flustered and confused about what to do next. 

_~~And maybe you like that lip bite more than you should.~~ _

"Are you alright there, buttercup?" You ask, for good measure, resolved to put an end in her self-inflicted torture. "It seems that the excitement of being an academic vandal is getting to you..."

She rolls her eyes at you, but you can see her shoulders relaxing a bit.

"Professor Cochrane ended class earlier. I'm not an academic vandal or whatever..." She reply, making her always-poor impression of your pompous tone in the last part of the phrase. "Does anyone know this place exists? Like at all?" She asks, looking around in a mix of awe and weirdness. 

"All my hiding spots are the object of some rumor involving the Alchemy Club..." You say, observing her as she tentatively runs her fingers to a dusty book. "This is the Nicholas Flamel session or something... No one comes near." 

"LaF told me people fear the Alchemy Club and the Alchemy Club fears you, for some reason." Laura turns to you and chuckles a little, as if she finds the idea ridiculous. 

"Well, have you looked at me?" You asks, making a vague gesture towards yourself. "I'm pretty scary." 

“I don’t think so.” She says, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head with a soft smile.

“You know nothing, Laura Hollis.” You state.

“Are we going back to our Game of Thrones debate?” She scoffs.

“If I remember correctly, we agreed the books are far too superior...” You say.

“Yes, that’s true.” She reply, sitting in the edge of the couch, close to your feet. “Although we had a few disagreements about why…”

“Only because you cannot fully appreciate the geniality of Tyrion’s character.”

“He’s a great character, I’ve said! He just pales in comparison to Daenerys…”

“Tell me, cupcake…” You huffs a strand a hair out of your face. “How does it feel to live life with such a wrong opinion?”

“God, you’re insufferable.” She laughs, rolling her eyes again.

“So I’ve warned you since day one.” You say, closing your eyes and adjusting your head in the most comfortable position you can manage in the old couch.

You’re considering that nap again when you feel something – a tiny little body, perhaps? – lying close to you.

_What the fuck?_

“Excuse me…” You snap your eyes open in time to see Laura getting rid of her shoes. “What the frilly hell is this?”

“Scoot back, I want a spot.” She says, gently pushing you aside with her shoulder.

You do scoot back – because is either this or pushing her out of the couch, and you’re not feeling particularly violent today – but makes sure to look very outraged to hide your startled surprise of having her this close.

“This is my couch.” You hisses, watching with a discredited look as she makes herself comfortable, laying on her side, with her back to you, so you both can fit in the limited space. 

You’re so pressed to the back of the couch – in an attempt to don’t touch her – that you practically not even breathing at this point.

“I’ll have you know that is cold outside, Mrs. Grumpy Pants!” Laura says, tucking her hands under her head as a pillow. “And this secret couch looks perfect to a cozy nap…”

You don’t say anything, mostly because your head is a giant mess right now. You stare at the back of her head as if her golden brown hair will give you a tip on how to react in this situation. You can hear your heart tugging, which is weird, you think, because this is literally just a girl lying close to you. Right?

A very cute, warm and pretty much gorgeous girl, smelling like shampoo and fresh clothes, lying very close to you in a chilly day.

Right. No biggies. You let the air out of your lungs very slowly, using all the strength in your mind to just relax.

_Don’t make it weird, Karnstein._

“You hair smell like strawberry.” You say, breaking the silence.

“Oh, thanks…” She says happily, and you can totally imagine her soft smile, even if you don’t see her face.

“No, I mean… It’s suffocating. Please get it out of my face…” You reply, in a very faux disgusted tone.

She laughs, a full content laugh, and you’re about to say something snarky when you feel her feet rubbing yours gently and you stop breathing again.

“Carmilla…” Laura says, her voice starting to sound a little sleepy. “Please, shut up.”

You comply gladly, afraid that if you open your mouth again you’re going to say something really reckless.

_~~Such as “this is more pleasant than I’ll ever admit to anyone including myself”.~~ _

She stop moving her feet, as she fast falls asleep, her breath totally relaxed. It takes you time to relearn how to inhale and exhale again, but soon you are asleep too, feet warmed by someone with little cupcakes themed socks.

 _How appropriate,_ is your last thought.

 _Damn cupcake socks_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just... I don't quite know what it is.  
> Character development?  
> I hope it's enjoyable though :P  
> You can find me here: l-elephant-blanc.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me here: l-elephant-blanc.tumblr.com  
> Please come tell me what you think, if you wish.


End file.
